


Down & Centre

by helo572



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Stranded, Whumptober, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:22:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26746564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helo572/pseuds/helo572
Summary: An unknown assailant leaves Anakin and Ahsoka stranded on an isolated jungle planet. With rescue days behind them, Anakin is determined to keep Ahsoka alive, even if it kills him.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano
Comments: 10
Kudos: 49
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Down & Centre

**Author's Note:**

> whumptober this year broke me out of my writer's block, so i am immensely grateful for it. this is probably the only resulting fic in a good enough state to be published out of the 30k odd words i did write. please enjoy and let me know if you wanna see more!!

The water is freezing. Anakin doesn’t let it stop him, already waist-deep and wading, eyes on the ship rapidly sinking into the murky water. He breaks quickly into a front form crawl stroke, like the brief lessons at the Temple had taught him. He doesn’t even need to be a good swimmer, he just knows he needs to get to Ahsoka _now_. 

Debris litters the surface of the water in a halo around where the fighter had gone down. Only the back end is breaching the water now, the cabin buried underneath the surface. He hadn’t heard the splash over the comm, instead, the _crack_ of Ahsoka’s head as it hit the controls when she entered the atmosphere in free fall. Maybe the water had saved her life. It certainly wasn’t going to be her grave, either.

His hands find the ship. He is looking at them, one white and shaking, the other dark, gloved and steady, braced on the left wing of the upturned ship. Yet, he can’t feel them; it’s purely adrenaline that plunges his fingers underneath the wing. The manual release for the cockpit is right here. 

Somewhere.

The ship keeps sinking, slipping from his grasp. He ducks his head under the water to look, to follow his hands as they descend with the ship into the water.

The release. It’s _right here_. Somewhere. Underneath the wing.

A beat, and he exhales just that much for bubbles to escape his mouth. He counts them as they race past his vision: one, two, three, four, five, six.

There. _Snap._

More bubbles roar up from underneath the surface, too many to count. And it’s there he finally sees her, still strapped into her chair. Even through the veil of the water, he can see how lifelessly her head lolls backwards, hands floating loose around the controls. Their bond is quiet, empty, even after he’d spent the chase down to the surface desperately shaking at it; at her.

Still, nothing.

_Kriff_.

Anakin dives down. There are the buckles which secure her to the shock couch, which his hands struggle to undo in reverse. And then the puzzle of extracting his padawan from the wreckage, getting her to the surface, then to the shore, then--

_One thing at a time,_ says Obi-Wan’s voice in his head, from some day at the Temple when he’d slipped and fell during a duel. One of his first. _Find your centre. Work outwards._

Buckles, undone (ripped off, floating away in the water, like Ahsoka’s lolling head).

Ahsoka, in his arms (one arm looped under her arms, another grabbing at the water).

The surface? He looks up, to where he can see sunlight, and then down again, to his still padawan. He is running out of breath and Ahsoka out of time. Anakin kicks off hard from the ship, sending it deeper into the depths of the water, and the two of them up towards the surface of the water. 

He pulls his free hand down in an arc; a sweeping motion through the water. Again, again, and again. His legs kick, hard, desperately. More bubbles escape his mouth. The surface just seems to creep further and further away, the sunlight fading, Anakin’s chest burning.

_Your centre, Anakin._

A beat, and he turns his hand downwards towards the sinking fighter, now fully submerged. Bubbles fly up from the sinking ship towards them, towards the surface. Anakin reaches out with the Force. Pushes, hard, and the Force launches them upwards, the water roaring around them, almost in semblance of defeat. 

They break the surface of the water, Anakin gasping for breath. Ahsoka makes a noise, a sort of strained garble deep in her throat.

“Ahsoka,” he gasps. Her eyelids don’t flutter open like he wants them to, and her mouth doesn’t curve upwards into a smirk like he _desperately_ wants it to, nor do they form the words, _Hey_ _Skyguy_.

The shore. He turns his gaze, and it’s so close, yet so far away. With Ahsoka a deadweight against his chest, the water threatens to pull her under again, down with the ship. “I’ve… got you,” he grunts.

He starts kicking, his free arm paddling, slowly pulling them towards the shore. It’s painstakingly slow, but relief sets into him as good as anything when his feet brush the lakebed. He ever-so-gently guides Ahsoka to the mud of the shore. Laying her down on her back, the lake water still lurking at her feet, the much-more-detailed First Aid training kicks in.

Drowning. Kix’s words, in their biannual refresher, ring the truest. Most familiar, but it’s not what he falls back on. The Force technique wasn’t as simple as field medicine, but it’s as complicated as he could possibly manage crashed on the surface of an unknown planet.

Guiding water out of someone’s lungs, where it was invisible, could mean anything with the array of species possible to perform it on. A togruta -- Ahsoka -- wasn’t built much different to him, just a little larger; lungs located in the chest, protected by the rib cage, and protecting the heart cradled between them. Lungs currently full of water, which he pictures so vividly he swears he _can_ see it, and how Ahsoka’s heart struggles to beat, stuttering in her chest.

He grits his teeth. _No._ “I’ve got you, Snips.”

Eyes closed in concentration, Anakin reaches out with the Force, finds what he is looking for, and holds on in a vice grip. But gently, like he would practice a kata, the water moves up and out of her lungs, up her throat, into her mouth, and--

Ahsoka makes a terrible, guttural noise, and her whole body starts in a violent shudder. Anakin is there instantly, guiding her onto her side, where water pours out of her mouth as she starts coughing. He still can’t stop his hands from shaking, even with the Force and how it had just guided his hands, and even when he sees Ahsoka’s eyelids flutter open, exactly like he wants -- and had wanted -- them to.

“Hey,” he says, setting his hand on her bare shoulder. Ahsoka manages to both curl into the contact, and into herself, as the last of the coughing racking her frame subsides. “It’s okay, Snips.”

“S-Sky--” Her voice is barely above a rasp, and she can’t finish without another fit of coughing tearing out of her throat. A shiver rattles her entire body, then a long, low groan. “I--” she tries next, and her eyes, which meet his all of a sudden, are glassy.

“It’s okay,” he repeats, forcing a reassuring smile. “You’re okay.”

There’s a _boom_ overhead which tears both their attention. They both know the sound, all-too-familiar: a ship entering the atmosphere as it is supposed to, not as a fiery crash landing. That would certainly be who shot them down.

Anakin isn’t going to wait around to find out. They could be on them within moments, if they knew exactly where they had crash landed.

“We need to get moving,” he says, casting his gaze to their surroundings, for the first time. On the shore is the trail of his own crash landing, smoke billowing from the ruined engines. Beyond is a treeline, and further, mountains climb into the skyline, green and alive. The sky above them is a soft shade of blue, with white and fluffy clouds doting. 

A guiding hand on Ahsoka’s back helps her sit, where she has to take a few moments. The movement has a wound on her head leaking, just beneath where her montrals start on the right side. The blood dribbles slowly down her face, a contrast to her orange skin.

Worry is chewing at Anakin like an itch, but the potential of something worse lurking in the skies is biting worse. He can’t -- _won’t_ \-- let anything else happen to Ahsoka. He needs to get her somewhere safe, let her rest, figure out a way off this planet without getting her killed.

_One thing at a time._

Anakin takes a deep breath. In, hold, and out. Ahsoka is struggling to do the same; he can see how her chest is struggling with each inhale, and her head is aching as she exhales. The concern playing on Anakin’s mind quickly scratches itself into an open wound, which no doubt Ahsoka is feeling through their bond. Probably not helping much of anything.

_Find your centre._

He sets his hand on Ahsoka’s bare shoulder, again. She leans into him, again. “Okay,” she says, her voice but a croak. “Help me up.”

They lock hands, and Ahsoka pulls herself to her feet. And immediately, her knees wobble, and her skin loses nearly all its pallor, orange turning to a sickly pastel. He’s ready, at least, for her eyes to roll back up into her head and for her to crumble like her ship had when it hit the water. Last time, he watched from his cockpit. At least this time, he catches her, and doesn’t hesitate to hook his arm underneath her knees and sweep her up and into his chest. Safe. Heavy, too, but he can -- _will_ \-- manage.

“Oh,” she whispers, her head lolling into the crook of his arm, head wound still leaking. Once they were hidden underneath the treetops, he was going to take care of that immediately, and then find somewhere to keep her comfortable so she could rest. “D-Don’t feel so good, S-Sky... Skyguy…”

“It’s okay.” He must sound like a broken holo disc by now. “I’ve got you.” She curls into his chest, and his heart starts hurting something different, much unlike the ache that has begun to settle over the rest of his body. “Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

* * *

The trees stretch upward for eons above Anakin’s head, winding up towards the treetops. The canopy holds most of the larger, more elaborate branches, as well as the leaves that block out most the sunlight. It would be quite a climb to reach a branch he could trust to hold his own weight, let alone both him and Ahsoka together. She wouldn’t even be able to make the climb in the first place. The tree trunks are massive in circumference, thinning out the higher they climb towards the canopy. They look smooth and slippery with the way the wood appears to twist and turn in on itself, again and again, until it weaves a solid trunk with a distinct criss-cross pattern. The roots do the same thing, and arguably, are the most impressive part of the planet’s flora so far. Some trees spout them like veins out of the earth, climbing up and over the dirt, only to wind back down into the ground again.

The further in they go, the less ground is dirt and more gardens of twisting roots, massive nettles and plants rivalling the size of a Jedi starfighter. Some leaves grow out of the ground on their lonesome, on stalks, not as debris from the trees above them. It all starts to blend together the longer he walks. Each tree trunk he lets Ahsoka rest against looks the same, the same imprint in the wood he traces under his flesh hand, and the same angle of brief sunlight when it trickles in from between the leaves above them.

At least, Ahsoka summons the strength to stand, albeit with Anakin’s arm looped around her shoulders holding her steady. The fresh forest air must be rejuvenating, at least over the bite of the freezing lake water. 

The longer they walk, the quicker his thoughts race. The crash. The rescue. Ahsoka’s head wound as it continues to dribble blood down her face. The increasing pain in his ribs. Taking in the scenery is a welcome distraction, but it’s still plagued with the desperate need for a hiding spot, and shelter. Ahsoka couldn’t walk forever. Their pursuers, whoever they were, would be quicker.

_Work outwards_ , encourages Obi-Wan, who is off on a diplomatic envoy with the Chancellor for the next two months. And Anakin is here, stuck on a backwater Outer Rim planet, shot down during a scouting mission. His ailing padawan at his side; his only method of escape a wreck left for discovery on the shore; his only hope for rescue a few days behind them in hyperspace--

_It’s okay._ Not Obi-Wan, but Ahsoka, a soothing presence pushing at their force bond. She is exhausted and not-all-there, but she can most likely feel the anxiety rolling off him in waves. Possibly the pounding of his heart, too, given their proximity.

“Almost there,” he says.

And where is _there_ , exactly?

Though it hadn’t kicked in as quickly nor as perfectly as he’d liked, the Temple survival training guides him slowly uphill, where eventually the landscape opens up into a small ravine. There’s a tree whose thick roots are one of the larger collections he’s seen. The trunk backs onto the trickle of running water through the ravine, and the leaves far up in the canopy cast a shadow across the whole ravine.

Anakin fashions a hole in the root system with his lightsaber, big enough for him to use as an entrance way, if he minds his head. Inside, the roots back onto the groove of the trunk, and the other side offers a view of the ravine from between the twisted wood peeking from beneath the earth.

He can take a guess it’s about an hour’s slow walk from the lakeside. He would love to put days between them and the wreckage, but with Ahsoka injured, it’s impossible. While upright for the better half of their trek, he can feel her exhaustion; tenfold when she sits down in their makeshift shelter.

“How are you feeling?”

Ahsoka lifts her head from where it had immediately careened towards her chest. Her half-lidded eyes meet his own. The head wound is still red and angry, as is the line of blood that trails down her face. “Better,” she replies, her voice still raspy. “Thanks, Skyguy. For saving me.”

It’s the most she’s said since the exit from hyperspace, yet, not what Anakin wants to hear. He takes a seat opposite her in the dirt. His ribs protest immediately. “I couldn’t just leave you there, Ahsoka.” Her gaze falls into her lap, and her arms hug her middle just that bit tighter. He holds back a sigh. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” _Alive_ , perhaps, was the better word.

What would he do if he had lost her?

“Me too,” she murmurs, a tone of reflection touching at words which has him reflecting, also. 

His thoughts from earlier come racing back: what exactly were they supposed to do? Master Windu had sent them ahead, given their proximity to the system he wanted scouted, and ordered the 501st behind them two days later. 

Except, someone had been waiting for them. Someone had trapped them on this planet, alone, injured, and without any supplies. Everything was on the ships -- ship, now. Getting to Ahsoka’s would prove impossible. Piloting skills were exceptional between them, which has Anakin’s thoughts running further away, back to the lakeside. Who had shot them down? Who had nearly killed Ahsoka?

“Are you okay, Master?” Ahsoka is looking at him again, her eyes still glassy. 

Anakin offers her a small smile. “Fine. I’m just glad you’re okay.” That prompts another question, “What do you remember? Anything?”

His padawan frowns. “I remember... entering the system. Someone started shooting at us. We couldn’t see where from. I was trying to get an emergency transmission out when I was hit.” She clears her throat, like something is lodged there uncomfortably. “And then I woke up on the shore.”

It had happened so quickly, for Anakin. Ahsoka’s account feels right, save the frantic screaming of her name over the comm. The explosion of her ship, right in front of him, had been silent in the vacuum of space. The red fighter had quickly listed into the planet’s gravity, and he hadn’t even spared a second thought to pursuing it down to the surface, or scrambling out of his own ship, or diving into the water. 

Had he stayed to fight off their assailant...

Ahsoka shivers across from him, the movement seeming to vibrate the ground they were both sitting on. She hugs herself tighter, eyes screwing shut. It all grinds against his senses, like sandpaper. It’s _wrong_. 

“What is it?” He leans forward, ribs groaning in protest.

“I... I just don’t feel good,” she replies. “It’s my chest.”

Anakin is no medic, nor a force healer. That was all far better suited to Obi-Wan. The helplessness suddenly starts chewing at him, to match the scratched-open worry, and the sense of _wrong_ grinding across his skin.

“It’s okay,” is his automatic reply. “Here.” He shrugs off his robe, not so automatic, leaving him in nothing but his black under-suit from the waist up. He offers it out to Ahsoka, whose eyes focus for a moment, and a bit of colour returns to her face. 

She says to her lap, “N-No, it’s fine--” More helplessness works its way up his throat. He hadn’t meant to embarrass her.

“You need to keep warm.” The lake water had been freezing, and if she’s having chest pain, that could mean bigger problems than he had already anticipated. “And we can’t risk a fire if someone is looking for us.”

Ahsoka meets his gaze again, eyes that much more focused, and then she reluctantly takes the robe. She gets it halfway around one shoulder; Anakin has to lean forward to help her do the other shoulder. It hugs her like a blanket, as intended. Hopefully, it will keep any sickness from setting in too quickly.

“Thanks,” Ahsoka murmurs, her voice low again, dropped to a rasp.

They had two days until the 501st arrived. But, now?

Anakin can’t suppress the sigh this time as he looks at his charge. Ahsoka is struggling to keep her eyes open. As she moves her head to get comfortable against the tree trunk, the blood still covering her face glistens when the sunlight catches it.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, “Going to get us some water.”

All they have with him are the clothes on their back and their lightsabers. Part of Anakin wants to return to his wrecked ship for supplies, but with their assailants so close, they couldn’t risk being out in the open again. They had already bested them both in the vast vacuum of space; who knows what they were capable of meeting on the battlefield.

Plus, all of him is refusing to leave Ahsoka alone, let alone out of his sight. He can see their shelter from the small stream in the ravine, but can’t see her between the roots. He would have to cover the entranceway with some of the larger plants he’d seen, to conceal them completely, after he’d dealt with her head wound.

A very poor water container is fashioned out of bark and leaves, which takes longer than he would care to admit. About the size of his lightsaber hilt and a sizable depth, it fits nicely between Anakin’s hands -- still shaking -- and then into the dirt next to Ahsoka and the tree trunk. 

She stirs at the sound of Anakin wringing out a piece of cloth over the water container. She squints at him, glassy eyes asking, _What is it?_

“I’ve got some water to clean your face with,” he explains. He has torn a piece off his robe still tucked around her shoulders; combined with the running ravine water, it was as good as it was going to get for now. Ahsoka just nods stiffly.

Anakin had always found the cleaning of wounds to be a mechanical process. He knew exactly what to do, and why. There had never been anything personal about it -- given they were usually _his_ wounds -- but all the helplessness, worry and _wrong_ is making his chest hurt. He dabs at the wound as gently as he can. The excess blood falls away with relative ease, revealing a sizable scratch about the length of his thumb. It’s deep, but not enough to be overly concerning. The wound weeps a little as he cleans, and Ahsoka tries to hide her grimacing each time he presses down.

He cleans the rest of her face, too, and the bits of her neck that peek out from underneath his robe. It would be too hard to watch her if she was still covered in her own blood, especially if he could do something about it.

“There.” He sits back onto his knees, stifling a wince when the movement aggravates his ribs.

Ahsoka peers at him from under heavy eyelids. “Thanks, Skyguy,” she rasps.

Still, he smiles. He has to. “You just get some rest now, Snips. Focus on feeling better.”

The corners of her mouth quirk up ever so slightly into a smile. It’s the first he’s seen out of her since the crash. The relief, even at such a simple motion, is palpable. Finally, it makes him sit properly down in their shelter, taking a moment to himself.

_Kriff_ , he hurts. There is a pinch between his eyebrows and of course, the now-constant throbbing of his ribs. He has probably bruised something in the crash, his head included. There was also the strain of lugging Ahsoka to shore; two bodies were too heavy for his simple Temple training. He had still managed. He isn’t sure what he would have done if he hadn’t.

The Force relaxes around him, suddenly. Ahsoka lets out a long breath across from him, which only slightly catches in her throat. _She’s asleep_. There’s another wave of relief that hits him, yet, the rest of Anakin’s anxiety hasn’t gone down yet.

He takes a deep breath. His center, right now, was here.

There are things to busy himself with until he calms down enough to rest, even lightly. The shelter needs to be concealed. The water container needs cleaning. He could climb their tree to see if he could get a vantage point for their location, for when the 501st arrived. His wrist communicator would only be good within a very limited range and he needed them in it as soon as possible.

By the time he sits back down a time later, the sun is starting to droop in the sky, and the shelter is properly concealed in an assortment of leaves and plants. It blends into the ravine both from a distance away between the trees, and from above. 

Scaling the tree had proved more difficult than he envisioned, but still useful. There was nothing in their vicinity that indicated anything of a settlement, nor anyone else. There were also a number of clearings nearby; the canopy broke enough for sunlight to filter through in big splotches, rather than the small slithers that had guided him up the tree trunk. And finally, the stream in the ravine wound through the forest vaguely back the way they had come. If their assailant was smart, they would follow the stream back up from the lake towards them. With their camouflage, hopefully it meant they would continue on past them, too.

Though, it seems Anakin was hoping for a lot of things. Above all, he is hoping for Ahsoka to be alright.


End file.
